


doubt thou the stars are fire

by bearfeathers



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kissing, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Tumblr Prompt, jedistormpilot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:41:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24013027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearfeathers/pseuds/bearfeathers
Summary: “Doubt thou the stars are fire;Doubt that the sun doth move;Doubt truth to be a liar;But never doubt I love.”― William Shakespeare, HamletA collection of tumblr prompt fills and various odds and ends. Multiple pairings, multiple universes, all fair game.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Poe Dameron/Finn/Rey
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	1. Blanket Hogging (jedistormpilot)

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt:
> 
> “Quit it! You’re hogging the blankets!” Jedistormpilot (Rey is from JAKKU, she gets COLD ok??)

“Well, that’s your fault for not having an adequate supply of blankets, isn’t it?” Rey retorts.

Easy for her to say, Poe thinks. She’s rolled herself into a cozy little cocoon, twisting like the whirlwind that she is until Poe’s comforter was fully enshrouding her. Finn sits beside her, looking to be a combination of amused and wanting to get some sleep already.

“Right, because this is my fault,” Poe says, hands on his hips as he studies their situation. “You know that bed wasn’t made with three in mind?”

That’s not exactly true, though. He can still remember deserting his childhood bed to wedge between his parents, seeking shelter from his nightmares by basking in the safety only they could provide. Still, it was a tight fit even then, never mind accommodating three adults. Not to mention the fact that sleeping in his parents’ bed is still something he’s trying to wrap his head around. It’s the only surface in the house that will fit all three of them and sleeping separately was decided to not be an option, so here they are.

A series of happy beeps draws his attention and he looks down, finding BB-8 at his legs with spare blankets in tow. Sure, she had dragged them across the floor from the hall closet but she’s doing her best.

“Yeah, buddy, those will do just fine,” Poe says with a grin.

“Here, let me help,” Finn says, sliding off the bed.

Rey watches them closely as they gather up the cloth offerings from BB-8 and start to rearrange the bed. It reminds her of porgs nesting. She feels suddenly self-conscious as she remembers just where they are. This is Poe’s home. The one he grew up in. The one he hasn’t been back to since he had left it at seventeen. She wonders if her attempts at teasing were off the mark in this instance.

“It would get so cold at night on Jakku,” Rey says suddenly, beginning to unravel herself from the comforter. “Sometimes it was so cold, I couldn’t sleep. Cloth was hard to come by, wool even harder. I would get scraps sometimes, but others… it was making a choice between scraps of cloth or food for the next week. It’s hard to forget the things that were my whole life. But this is your home and—”

“Our home,” Poe corrects her.

Finn touches the pilot’s arm briefly. “That’s what we decided, right?”

Rey frowns. “Yes. But I think it’s still important to respect this place as the home you grew up in.”

Poe flops onto the bed on her right side, Finn on her left. They scooch in to fit on the bed, keeping her nestled safely between them.

“Yeah, but… I think it’s time to fill this place with new memories,” Poe says. “It’s been empty long enough.”

Finn pulls one of the spare blankets up over himself, lying on his side and watching Poe and Rey get comfortable. “You know, I never thought about having something like this? It wasn’t even on my radar for most of my life. I thought the First Order was my home. The other troopers were my family. That’s what they teach you, that’s how they breed loyalty. But it was a lie. This is my home now and you’re my family. I want to make new memories here with both of you.”

BB-8 beeps in agitation from the side of the bed. Finn laughs along with Poe and Rey.

“Alright, I want to make new memories with the _three_ of you,” Finn says, amending his previous statement. “But I don’t think we need to erase the past to do that. We are who we are because of it, because of the things we’ve been through, apart and together.”

“What he’s saying is that if you hog the blankets, we forgive you,” Poe says with a grin.

“I was _getting_ to that, thank you,” Finn says, smacking the pilot over the head with a pillow. “Let me make the cool speech for once.”

Quickly finding herself in the middle of an ensuing pillow fight, Rey decides they’re both right. Although old memories may have shaped them, it’s the new ones that will shape their present. The past has its place, but it needn’t be the lens through which one views their future.

…that, and she’s not above using the Force to win a pillow fight.


	2. Tummy Ache (jedistormpilot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: 
> 
> JediStormPilot: "You're going to get a stomach ache."

“I know what I’m doing,” Rey says.

At least, that’s what Finn _thinks_ she says; it’s hard to tell with her cheeks packed full of bread. Food is something Rey is never shy about and with the spread at this victory celebration, she’s in top form. But tonight she’s eating with a purpose, it seems, as she tugs Poe to sit with them using one hand and crams another roll in her mouth with the other.

“Let’s remember our words,” Poe says, grinning in a way that makes Finn want to kiss it off his face.

Rey swallows her food, grinning sweetly as she very clearly enunciates: “Shut up.”

“One of these days she’s going to annihilate you and I won’t cry for you when she does,” Finn says, grinning right back at him instead.

“Please. She could annihilate me and I’d _thank_ her for it,” Poe snorts. “Right, Rey—wait, what are you up to?”

“I distinctly recall telling you to shut up,” Rey hums in mock-consideration, her hands pushing up his sleeve and unwinding the bandage around his arm. “Now, hold still. It’s going to feel a bit chilly.”

“What’s going to—oh. _Oh_. Oh, that feels… weird,” Poe says.

Finn doesn’t protest when Poe’s free hand flies to his knee. Rey focuses on what she’s doing, her hand hovering over the blaster wound to the pilot’s bicep. Just as with their slithering desert friend, the flesh beneath her palm slowly begins to knit back together until the angry red of the wound is replaced by the pale pink of new skin.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get sick of seeing that,” Finn says.

“I hope not, since I’ll be teaching you how to do it,” Rey replies.

Poe, who has said nothing since Rey began healing his injury, suddenly shoves away from the table and stands up, taking both her plate and Finn’s. “I’m getting you some of that roast.”

“And potatoes, please!” Rey calls to him with a smile.

“How about a drink on your way back?” Finn tacks on.

Poe shoots them a look that’s telling them not to push their luck, but they know he’s going to do it anyway. Finn has heard a lot of different ways to say “I love you.” Wrapping an arm around Rey and watching Poe struggle to fit more meat on Rey’s plate, Finn figures “I’m getting you some of that roast” is one of them.


	3. The Queen Abides (Pre-Kylux + Tak)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt:
> 
> Kylux: "The Queen abides my presence, but he does not tolerate me for long." 
> 
> This takes place in an AU where Ben never goes to the Dark Side and becomes Queen of Naboo. Snoke's apprentice in this instance is my original character Tak, from my fic [The Revenant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22370311).

Snoke’s apprentice watches him with suspicion, their keen Shistavanen eyes clearly finding fault with something he’s said. “And you actually believe that, do you?”

If it weren’t so unrefined to do so, Hux might have snorted. “I’m sorry, refresh my memory: was it you or I who has been planetside this past week attempting to win him over?”

“I know Ben Solo, however much that may _displease_ you,” Tak says, thin lips curled up at the corners, baring their teeth in a wolfish grin. “And he does not _abide_ the presence of anyone. You’re there because he wishes you to be. You _amuse_ him. Be careful that you do not underestimate him—he can be surprisingly clever when he isn’t being charmingly stupid.”

“A Solo trait, as far as I’ve been able to tell,” Hux says, flicking his fingers distractedly across the face of his datapad. “But as I’ve said, the Queen does not tolerate me for long. Our Supreme Leader is certain that will change, but I can’t say I’m particularly enthusiastic about making it happen. My talents are _wasted_ on a venture such as this.”

Tak chooses to keep their opinion on that to themself.


	4. Feelings (Kylux)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt:  
> “Hmm. So you do have feelings.” - for Kylux >:3c  
> Takes place immediately following TFA.

The pain is what re-enters his awareness first. It’s an inescapable presence, smothering him beneath it like a pillow pressed over his face. Yet there is a second presence, as all-consuming as the first and it fills his senses before he can even begin to question where he is or what’s happened.

Hux.

When Kylo’s vision clears, he can see the general sitting at his bedside—for he is in a bed, it would seem—his attention devoted entirely to the datapad in his hands. His greatcoat is draped over the back of his chair but that’s the extent of his state of undress. His uniform is as crisp and clean as ever, his hair parted neatly to the side as it always is, his face clean shaven as usual. But from the dark circles beneath his eyes and the uncollected empty cups on the table beside him, Kylo thinks he must have been there for some time. Longer, he thinks, than it would seem at first glance.

“Ah, the great Kylo Ren deigns to once again grace us with his presence,” Hux drones boredly without looking up from his work.

“Where are we?” Kylo rasps, finding his throat dry and his voice scratchy with disuse.

“Supreme Leader Snoke’s ship,” Hux says. “I collected you from the defeated heap you’d been left in by that traitor and the scavenger girl and brought you onboard, as our Supreme Leader requested.”

“Collected me as your pet project imploded around you?” Kylo grunts as he moves to sit up.

Hux’s light eyes cut to him sharply. As usual, he can give it, but he can’t take it. But then the same could be said of Kylo so perhaps that’s why they can never seem to be rid of one another.

“As you might imagine,” Hux says tightly as he returns to his datapad, “neither of us are in Snoke’s good graces at the moment.”

Ah. So Hux is _hiding_ , then.

“Hiding from him here won’t do you any good,” Kylo comments, his eyes roving around the private room. It’s dark in its furnishings, as all First Order fleet rooms are, but clearly not in the medbay. Something which Kylo finds… odd. “Why am I not in medical?”

He senses a sudden spike of emotion from Hux. Anxiety and embarrassment flurrying to cover something else— _concern_.

“It had occurred to me that the crew might find it demoralizing to see you in… the state you’re in,” Hux says carefully. He clears his throat primly, straightening his posture even further, if possible. (Kylo has never seen the man slouch and he’s not sure Hux is even capable of the action.) “However much I may not wish to admit it, the crew derives a sort of strength from your presence. From the power that you wield. Seeing you struck down would be difficult for you to recover from and lead to unease among the ranks. I thought it best to keep you secluded to your chambers with access restricted to meddroids at hours outside peak foot traffic from the crew.”

Kylo squints at Hux. “…were you worried about me?”

Hux makes a noise like he’s just been Force choked, color rising high on his cheekbones as his lips press together into a thin, tight line. “Don’t be _absurd_. I merely chose the best course of action regarding the future of the First Order.”

He didn’t, though. Kylo closes his eyes, sensing the indignation and anxiety rolling off of Hux like a tidal wave in a bid to drown out that speck of concern surfing the calmer waters behind it. But bits and pieces of memory begin to resurface, allowing him to part through the tidal wave before him. He can feel the chill of his body lying in the snow. He hears the muffled sound of shouting. He feels the press of Hux’s hands against the bleeding wound in his side, sees the bright red of his hair against the frozen landscape like a flaming beacon, drawing his attention as a flame would a moth.

“Hmm,” Kylo says under his breath. “So you _do_ have feelings.”

“I most certainly do _not_ ,” Hux informs him, the crease in his brow telling Kylo that the mere implication offends him. “You’re delirious. Stop bothering me and go back to sleep. _Now_.”

“You think our best option to please Snoke is by presenting a united front,” Kylo says suddenly.

Hux narrows his eyes. “That’s not an opinion, it’s fact. Our best chance to recover from this setback is to combine forces. Which we might be able to do if you could stand to be agreeable for any prolonged period of time.”

“Right, because _I’m_ the one who’s not agreeable,” Kylo says, hissing in pain as he tries to prop himself up in bed.

With a heavily put-upon sigh, Hux rises from his seat and punches a few buttons in a nearby wall panel, raising the incline of the bed so that Kylo can sit up without exerting himself. The general then snatches a glass of water off the side table and thrusts it into Kylo’s hand.

“Drink that and _stop moving_ ,” Hux says crisply, resuming his seat and focusing again on his datapad.

Kylo, to his own surprise, does as he’s told. Lying back against the pillows, he watches as Hux continues to work in silence, paying Kylo no further attention. But a casual scan of the general’s thoughts reveals that Kylo is _very_ much still present in them. It’s not as though Hux is ever far from Kylo’s thoughts either, for better or for worse. Usually worse. He’d assumed the “better” portion had been left behind after their first meeting, when Hux had delivered Kylo to his new Master for their first face-to-face meeting, but that may not be the case. Perhaps they’d merely needed to be knocked down to the same level for the chance to see eye to eye again.

“We can try it,” Kylo says. “The united front thing.”

“I am pleased beyond measure,” Hux drawls sarcastically.

(Kylo doesn’t mention that he can sense that Hux actually means it.)


	5. dare me (jedistormpilot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College!AU for the prompt: "Dare me."
> 
> Finn just wants to pass this exam. Rey and Poe have other ideas. (lil bit of Kylux mentioned at the end lol)

“Dare me.”

Finn looks up from his textbook, fixing his partner with a bored gaze. Poe leans back in his seat, managing to teeter on the precarious line between too-far-back and just-far-enough, twirling his pen between his fingers. Somehow, he always manages to make whatever he does look so effortless.

Except his studying. Which he’s supposed to be doing right now.

“No one’s daring you to do anything,” Finn says. “We’ve got exams, remember?”

“I dare you to chug both of these Red Bulls,” Rey says excitedly.

“Wow, you guys really want to fail this class, don’t you?” Finn sighs.

“Come on, babe, we’ve been studying all afternoon,” Poe says, batting his eyes at him. He’s always been too pretty for his own good, damn him. “Besides, it’s not fun if you don’t play along.”

Well, it’s true they _had_ been studying for quite awhile now. And it’s true it’s important to take breaks. But Finn knows the consequences of encouraging his boyfriend and girlfriend when they’re in this kind of mood.

…fuck it, he deserves a break, too.

“Okay, but I propose an amendment to that dare,” Finn says, shutting his textbook.

“And that would be…?” Rey asks with her sweet, Cheshire Cat smile.

“Let’s make it the _one_ can,” Finn says, reaching to pull the other can towards himself. He leans on his elbows, grinning widely Poe. “And we each get a kiss when you finish.”

Poe plants his hands on the table, leaning across textbooks and notepads until he’s practically lying atop the surface, his face mere inches from Finn’s.

“You’re on,” he says huskily.

Rey tugs him back by his collar with a laugh. “Let’s remember we’re in a library. So, nothing too saucy.”

“We’ll just have to keep some sauce on the side for later,” Poe says, wagging his eyebrows as he cracks open the can.

It’s not really much of a dare, Finn knows. Poe already consumes more caffeine than anyone Finn’s ever met—minus Armitage Hux—so this is practically like drinking water. Even without caffeine, Poe is always on the move, always doing. Sometimes it’s enough to wear Finn out but thankfully Rey seems to be able to pick up the slack. Like when it’s 2 AM and Finn _really_ wants to sleep but Poe _really_ wants to talk about how cool it would be to pilot a Gundam.

In seconds flat, the canned energy drink has disappeared, and Poe is up and sliding over like he’s Bo Duke and the table is the hood of a ’69 Dodge Charger. He straddles the edge of the table in front of Rey and she grins like the cat’s who’s gotten the cream. Finn sometimes can’t decide if he prefers kissing his partners himself or watching them kiss each other more. Rey reaches up, her hands framing Poe’s face and pulling him down to meet her. His chuckle is muffled by the meeting of their lips and he tucks a stray lock of hair behind the brunette woman’s ear. This goes on for several seconds before Rey pulls back, Poe’s lower lip caught briefly between her teeth before she releases him.

“Save some sauce for later, right?” she says, her features scrunching in the most adorable picture of mischief Finn has ever seen at Poe’s groan. She slaps his thigh. “Besides, you’ve got another kiss to deliver.”

That seems to cheer Poe right up as he sets his eyes on Finn like a hunting dog, scooting his butt on down the edge of the table until he’s in front of Finn. And honestly, as much as Finn wants to pass this class, that’s about the last thing on his mind at the moment. The too-sweet taste of Red Bull lingers on Poe’s tongue, and Finn swears this is the only way he can stand the taste of it. He lets his hands settle on Poe’s hips, encouraging him to wrap his hands around Finn’s shoulders.

“You really do want to fail this class, don’t you?”

Finn jerks back at the words, finding Hux standing at the end of their table with a manila folder in his hands and an eyebrow arched in judgment.

“Booooooooo,” Poe says, crumpling up a piece of paper and hurling it at the ginger. “You’re such a party pooper, Hugs.”

Hux sighs, not budging an inch as the paper ball bounces off his forehead. “Do as you like, I don’t care either way.”

Finn raises an eyebrow curiously as Hux wordlessly hands the folder to Rey, who in turn hands him a small slip of paper. The ginger clears his throat loudly, shifting awkwardly before muttering “As you were” and making an about-face out of the library.

“What was _that_ about?” Finn asks.

“I told him I’d trade him Ben’s number for his notes,” Rey says proudly.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Poe laughs. “Don’t even talk about that, you’re ruining the mood.”

“The library mood?” Finn reminds him.

“Oh. Right,” Poe says, glancing around the nearly—but very much _not_ —empty library. He turns to give each of them a smoldering smirk. “How about we move this study party somewhere more private?”

“Should I bring Armitage’s notes?” Rey asks with a grin.

“Rey!” Poe says, throwing his hands up dramatically. “The _mood_.”

Finn just laughs as he begins to pack up their things. They didn’t get everything done that they’d intended to, but a hard day’s work deserves some reward.

(And perhaps a second reward, stamina permitting.)


	6. alive (kylux)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: “Hear that? I’m alive. I’m right here.” Kylux, please and thank you!!
> 
> Hux has a nightmare. Ben comforts him.  
> (***WARNING*** very vague reference to noncon, but not between Ben and Hux.)

Fear tears him from his sleep.

But not his own.

Ben feels the shaking hand fisted in his shirt and looks up to meet Hux’s wide, panicked eyes. He’s breathing heavily, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead as he stares at Ben as though he’s under some spell. Ben grabs Hux’s wrist in a gentle grip as he sits up alongside him.

The former general’s fear had rippled along their bond like an incoming earthquake and when Ben delicately picks though the top layer of his thoughts, he understands why. The images are sharp and clear. He sees himself experiencing an eclectic variety of deaths; some at the hands of Palpatine, some at the hands of Rey, some at the hands of the New Republic.

The two of them have been on Ahch-To for about two months now. For their roles in aiding the Resistance against the First and Final Order, they were shown some measure of leniency at their trials. Leia and Hux’s birth mother had swayed the minds of the Council enough to allow them to keep their lives. However, they were to be exiled to Ahch-To for the remainder of their years—the new caretakers of the old Jedi ruins, in Luke’s stead.

Ben doesn’t mind so much.

Hux sometimes says he wishes they’d just killed him.

Ben wonders how much he means that but is too afraid to probe his thoughts any deeper on the matter.

Right now, though, in this moment, those things are far from Ben’s mind. Hux had wanted Kylo Ren to lose—and he had gotten his wish. He’d just been too prideful to say that the reason he’d wanted it was because he preferred Ben Solo. He wanted the man he had picked up on that lonely planet years ago at Snoke’s behest. He wanted that man who had found him charming and interesting, who had wanted to be closer to him. He wanted the only man he had ever given himself to willingly.

Ben is trying very hard to be that man. Or at least, someone like him.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “It’s okay.”

Hux blinks rapidly, looking at him with fresh eyes, as though he hadn’t truly been seeing him before. He swallows thickly and nods woodenly but says nothing. It’s like this, sometimes. Getting Hux to talk about what he’s feeling can be like pulling teeth.

“Come here,” Ben says, gently tugging him forward.

The redhead comes willingly, putting up no resistance as Ben pulls him to his chest. Ben feels Hux sag against him, his head drooping to rest on his chest. He reaches up and cradles the back of Hux’s head, drawing him closer as he skims his fingers through the other man’s hair. It’s grown longer than Hux typically cares for it to be, he observes idly.

“Hear that?” Ben asks, encouraging Hux to shift his ear towards his chest. “I’m alive. I’m right here.”

Several heartbeats pass before Hux speaks. “I know. I know, I was just…”

_Scared to be alone._

_Scared to be without you._

_Scared._

“It’s fine,” Ben assures him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You couldn’t if you wanted to,” Hux mumbles irritably.

“If you’re back to complaining, you must be feeling better,” Ben notes.

Hux draws away from him slowly but doesn’t meet his gaze. He looks exhausted. Sleepless nights have caught up to him, leaving dark smudges beneath his eyes and a vacant look about his gaze. He isn’t happy here, but they aren’t meant to be. Not after all they’d done. They’ve both acknowledged that much, at the very least. But Ben doesn’t know if Hux has ever _actually_ been happy before. From whatever pieces of his life that he’s shared, he doesn’t think Hux has. Ben doesn’t like to remember the part he’d played in that as Kylo Ren. But that, too, is part of his punishment. Learning to forgive one another has been… challenging.

“When did I become so reliant upon you?” Hux asks miserably.

“Probably about the same time I became reliant upon you,” Ben reasons.

There’s a soft hum from Hux as he stares down at their hands, brushing against Ben’s fingertips with his own.

“Do you think you can go back to sleep?” Ben asks him.

“No. Not tonight, I don’t think,” Hux says honestly.

Ben chews on his lower lip, considering whether he should offer what he’s about to offer. Better to do it, he decides, and let Hux make the decision.

“I could… help you go back to sleep,” Ben says. “Without nightmares.”

Hux frowns at the suggestion. Rare were the moments when he allowed Ben to use the Force on him in any way, no matter the reason. Which is fair, given their history. But Ben wishes he could in moments like these, moments where he could use it to help rather than hurt. As though sensing Ben’s anxieties, Hux looks up, his expression smoothing out into something that lacks his earlier defensiveness.

“No, I… I would prefer not to,” Hux says.

Ben inhales slowly and nods. They’re working on it. It’s just going to take time.

“I’ll make us some tea,” he says, already rising from the bed.

The feeling of a hand tugging at his wrist stops him from leaving the bed entirely. He looks down from where he stands, finding Hux holding onto him for dear life and looking as though he wants to say _something_. Ben waits.

“…thank you,” Hux says after a few tense moments of silence.

Ben opens his mouth and then shuts it, unable to think of what exactly it is he’d like to say. Instead, he dips down, pleased when Hux tips his head back to meet his kiss. It’s a brief thing, a mere brushing of the lips, but it means more than its mere physical aspect. It’s acceptance and forgiveness and an apology and a million things that Ben couldn’t begin to put a name to.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Ben tells him.

“Then don’t give me reason to,” Hux retorts.

This time, he allows Ben to pull away, perhaps the thought of a hot cup of tea incentivizing him. As he pours fresh water into the kettle and glances back at Hux hunched over in bed, Ben knows it’s going to be a long night. But that’s alright. They’ll get through it together, one way or another.


	7. a couch is not a bed (kylux)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: “Take my bed tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
> 
> I divided up the wording a little bit, but... oh well. Kylo shows up at Hux's quarters in the middle of the night after returning from his training. Hux just wants to work in peace.

It’s not as though Hux had been asleep in the first place, but the late-night interruption isn’t any more appreciated for it. Snubbing out his cigarette with perhaps more force than necessary, he pushes away from his desk and quickly strides over to the door to his quarters. Punching in his personal code allows him to unlock the door to find… Kylo Ren. Although Snoke’s apprentice is wearing his ridiculous mask, Hux can still tell that Kylo had given him a quick once over.

“Nice robe,” he says.

“What do you want, Ren? Some of us are busy,” Hux says impatiently, ignoring the jab. “And since when did you get back from your _training_?”

After the destruction of Starkiller Base, Snoke had whisked Kylo away for some specialized training. Or punishment. Likely both, Hux suspects. Their Supreme Leader hadn’t even deigned to inform Hux where Kylo would be and how long he would be gone. Not that it was technically any of his business or all that important in his day-to-day work. Still, Hux had been… curious. That’s as much as he was willing to admit to.

“…I’ve only just returned,” Kylo says at last.

“And you’ve decided to drop in on me at such a convenient hour because…?” Hux queries, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

Kylo has remained eerily silent in response to Hux’s question. He simply hovers in the doorway, only the modulated sound of his breathing reaching Hux’s ears. The general waits for him to say something. Anything. When it becomes apparent that Kylo doesn’t intend on answering him—or perhaps can’t think of anything to say—Hux scoffs and steps aside, allowing him space to enter.

“You may as well come inside while you think of whatever it is you need to say,” Hux says. “I’m not getting any work done just standing here.”

He walks back into his quarters, hearing Kylo’s heavy footprints follow him. They stop somewhere in the center of the room as Hux resumes his seat at his desk.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Kylo asks.

“As I said, some of us are busy,” Hux says, laying out a set of blueprints. “If you’ll recall from our last meeting, you aren’t the only one our Supreme Leader was disappointed in following Starkiller Base.”

Kylo grunts and Hux hears the click and hiss that signifies his mask being removed. Good. Hux hates that thing. Kylo’s footsteps approach his desk and Hux does his best not to lose focus as the man’s towering frame looms over him. It’s a lot harder when Kylo’s hand comes crashing onto the desk beside him.

“What are you working on?” Kylo asks, leaning over his shoulder.

Hux tenses, startled by the sudden proximity, but clears his throat and squares his shoulders. “A hyperspace tracker.”

Kylo snorts in his ear. “It’s never been done. You think _you’re_ going to be the one to do it?”

“As a matter of fact,” Hux says tersely, turning to meet his gaze, “I’m absolutely certain that I—”

Getting a good look at Kylo robs him of his words. The garish scar cutting up the right side of his face is nothing new. The dark smudges beneath his eyes and expression pinched with pain are.

“…am the only one capable,” Hux finishes lamely. “When was the last time you saw a bed?”

“Pretty sure it was when you were hovering over me because of _troop morale_ or something,” Kylo quips.

His attitude may be as insufferable as ever, but Hux doesn’t allow it to cloud his vision. He can tell Kylo leaning on his desk was less of a choice and more of a necessity. He looks about half a minute from falling over, leaving Hux to make a decision he wouldn’t ordinarily make.

“Take my bed,” he says.

“What?” Kylo murmurs dumbly.

“I can’t have you passing out in my quarters. It would be highly inconvenient,” Hux informs him. “So, take my bed and get the sleep you obviously need. I’ll deal with laundering my sheets after you’ve left.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be telling anyone to get some sleep,” Kylo says.

“If I need to sleep—which I _won’t_ —I’ll take the couch,” Hux says dismissively.

It says something that Kylo doesn’t even try to argue with him. Hux watches as his hand lifts from the desk and feels a weight as it shifts to the back of his chair. The fact that he needs to prop himself up just to stand makes Hux wonder exactly what kind of “training” Snoke had put him through. He’s never understood what sort of training being a Force user entails but judging by the condition Kylo is in whenever he returns from this training, maybe he doesn’t want to know the details. Kylo’s body flopping onto his bed is audible and Hux nearly snaps at him for being the brute that he is, but it will only start an argument that he doesn’t have time for.

Kylo hadn’t been entirely off the mark, Hux muses as he returns to his work. A working hyperspace tracker… it’s something he’d dreamed about for years but had never been able to devote the time to the venture. Now he doesn’t have much choice. Achieving where even the likes of Galen Erso had failed is more than daunting but Hux has never been one to back down when met with adversity. He’ll do whatever it takes to ensure his survival, to claw his way up to the top. Even the impossible.

He’s not fool enough to think Snoke couldn’t snuff him out in an instant if he wished. The fact is, Hux’s continued existence is contingent upon his usefulness. But that’s not anything new. His father and the other aging remnants of the Empire, Snoke… they’re all the same. None of them were interested in him or his potential unless they had something to gain from it. It was the way of the Empire and the way of the First Order.

But that’s fine. He’ll make them see. Just as he’s done in the past, anyone who stands in his way, anyone who has wronged him, they’ll be lucky if they live long enough to regret it.

“Hey.”

Hux lifts his head from his work and glances behind him. Kylo hasn’t raised himself from where he’s lying atop the bed—the animal hasn’t even pulled the covers back or changed out of his disgusting clothes.

“I didn’t invite you to take my bed with the purpose of making conversation,” Hux tells him.

“You should sleep, too,” Kylo says.

“I don’t need sleep,” Hux says, “I need to work. _Uninterrupted_.”

“You’ve read the same thing four times now,” Kylo says.

“What have I told you about reading my mind?” Hux hisses.

“It’s hard to ignore,” Kylo informs him. “You have the loudest thoughts of anyone I know.”

“Regardless,” Hux says, “your input isn’t needed. Unlike you, I have everything under control.”

“Let’s not sit here and pretend that we both don’t know that’s a lie,” Kylo says.

“How dare you…!”

Hux is on his feet and storming towards the bed before he even realizes, his vision colored red by the other man’s words. He’s not going to sit here and be insulted by some barbarian. This is what he gets for his moment of weakness, for allowing Kylo to worm his way in like this.

“You presume to have me figured out,” Hux barks, “but you know _nothing_ about me.”

“You wanted to work together,” Kylo says, cutting him off before he can get any more worked up. “How are we supposed to do that if you pass out on the bridge?”

“As if I would,” Hux sneers.

“You will,” Kylo assures him. “At the rate you’re going… Your body can’t sustain it forever. Caf and stims might work in the short-term but, mighty as you think you are, you’re still human. You need sleep. I need sleep. Let’s just… just sleep.”

If Hux is being completely honest with himself, he’s too tired to argue. He needs to work but it’s clear he’s not going to get any done with Kylo around. And though he may sleep less than the average officer, Hux still needs to sleep _sometime_. That much is true. Being interrupted like this grates on his nerves, but there’s little he can do to help it. With an indignant huff, he marches off to his bathroom to wash up for the night.

He thinks of Kylo while he brushes his teeth. About dragging him from the snowy landscape of Starkiller Base as it collapsed around him. About squirreling him away so no one could see him and proceeding to sit at his bedside like some ridiculous watchdog. About the fact that Kylo always managed to somehow see straight through him and had seen through him then, too.

There’s blood in the sink when he spits.

Now that he’s committed to the idea of sleep, his body seems to be making an attempt to shut down operations as quickly as possible. He suddenly feels heavy as he fetches a spare blanket and pillow for himself. They feel like lead in his hands.

“You should sleep in your bed,” Kylo says, watching him toss the pillow onto the sofa.

“I can’t. You’re in it,” Hux reminds him.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be, too,” Kylo says.

Hux narrows his eyes as his sluggish thoughts catch up to Kylo’s words. Kylo doesn’t want him to sleep on the couch, but clearly has no intention of sleeping on it either.

“Are you quite mad?” Hux demands.

“No. Just tired,” Kylo says. “Bed’s big enough.”

“I could throw you out right now,” Hux warns him.

“You could,” Kylo agrees.

Hux stands beside the sofa, glaring back at him. Kylo’s eyes aren’t even open to see it, but he somehow knows the Force user is aware of it all the same. There’s just no winning with this man.

“You’re impossible,” Hux mutters as he marches over to the bed.

Kylo hums faintly in response, rolling to his side and away from Hux as he sheds his robe and slips beneath the covers. Admittedly, Hux had missed the feeling of a bed. He’s fallen asleep at his desk too many times as of late. And the weight of the other man in his bed is… oddly comforting. It’s strange, considering he usually can’t tolerate this sort of closeness. Perhaps there’s something wrong with him. Or perhaps he really is in such dire need of sleep that it’s altering his perception.

“I like this working together thing,” Kylo says, as though reading his thoughts.

He probably is. The bastard. Just the idea is enough to warm his cheeks—the last thing he needs is Kylo getting any ridiculous ideas about where they stand with one another. Hux pulls the covers over his head.

“Shut up.”


	8. something good can work (kylux)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Palpatine and the Final Order have been defeated and Ben has survived, but survival without Hux feels hollow.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Lying on the cot in his cell, Ben listens to the storm raging outside. Hux had once told him about his first few years on Arkanis—how it rained and stormed nearly at all times. He had only seen one sunrise there, he’d said, but never a sunset.

Now he never will.

Ben tries not to dwell on how long the general’s corpse had sat in the medbay before the ship was inevitability brought down in that great, final battle. Pryde had been a mistake. He would say he didn’t know what he was thinking by appointing him Allegiant General, but that’s not true; he’d wished to embarrass Hux. To put him in his place.

Petty foolishness. That’s what it was. He can see that now. Of course, he hadn’t planned on the arrangement lasting forever. He’d thought he could reign Hux in a little after he’d pulled a blaster on him as he’d laid unconscious on the floor of the Supreme Leader's throne room. It was only fair, he’d reasoned. And once Hux had been properly punished… then he would extend the offer to rule beside him.

There had been a time when they had gotten along. It feels as though it had happened in some other lifetime, but it had happened. Deep down, despite the way they fought for Snoke’s favor, he had hoped they could return to that time one day. Hux wanted it, too. Ben had sensed it from him. But pride kept them apart, only allowing them close enough to be at each other’s necks.

But he can change all of that. Or… he can try at least.

Time travel is an ability rarely spoken of in Jedi texts, though Luke had discussed the theory with him on several occasions. There haven’t been any recorded instances of time travel in thousands of years, and even those that had been recorded were suspect, to say the least. Still, Ben has been practicing every day since they had put him in this cell. It’s not as though trying will hurt—he can’t escape his past as Kylo Ren and he has no future here.

But something about this storm, something about the way the Force flows around him tonight… he feels confident.

As he closes his eyes, the world around him slowly fades. He knows not what awaits him, whether he will be successful or simply fall deep into a slumber he never wakes from, but he welcomes oblivion with open arms.

* * *

Ben chokes on air and rain, the coppery tang of blood on his tongue as he feels it gushing from his nose. The ground is muddy beneath his hands as he struggles to push himself upright. All around him, people are running and screaming, only adding to the dizzying buzz in his head.

But he knows he’s done it. He’s exactly where and when he’d planned to be. Well… perhaps not _exactly_. He doesn’t actually know where Hux is, as he’s relying on memories that aren’t his own but rather something whispered to him in confidence years and years and years ago. Trying to reach through the Force to locate him brings a searing pain to his head and he staggers against a shop wall to keep himself upright. Alright, so he’d overdone it with the time-traveling, clearly. The thought sounds ridiculous even as he thinks it—of course the fucking time travel had overdone it, fuck’s sake. In any case, means he’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.

Grabbing the arm of a fleeing resident, he asks, “Can you tell me where Hux manor is?”

The man looks at him as though he’s insane. But muddy, bloody, and drenched, perhaps that’s what Ben looks like.

“I don’t know, maybe the enormous kriffing building up on the hill?” the man answers him sarcastically.

He yanks himself free of Ben’s grip, cursing him and calling him a lunatic before taking up where he’d left off in getting the hell out of town. Ben sighs wearily, seeing the distance spread out before him. But he’s not going to get any closer sitting here and bemoaning his situation, so he sets off, trudging through the wet streets and onto grass that he can’t believe hasn’t drowned with how much it rains here.

Unfortunately, that’s where things stop being easy. As it turns out, walking up a hill in the pouring rain is actually rather difficult. On hands and knees, clawing his way to the top and slipping more than his fair share, Ben has to wonder what this is all for. He knows why he’s doing it, but he doesn’t know what the end result will be. Assuming he does what he came here to, what happens then? Does he change the future? Does he create an alternate reality? Does he even return to where he’d been or does he merely cease to be?

It’s in the midst of these musings that Ben becomes aware of the fact that he’s being followed. Of course, he’s not fool enough to turn around and find out who it is, but he doesn’t feel he really needs to anyway. He can sense their presence easily and finds it to be… oddly familiar. He just can’t put his finger on why that is. Regardless, the presence is soft and non-threatening in its nature in a way that reminds him of Leia. It’s _motherly_ , he realizes. That’s how it feels.

The person it belongs to means him no harm and so he puts them far from his mind for the time being. He has much greater things to concern himself with.

It feels like eons before Ben pants on hands and knees atop the hill. The grit seems permanently wedged beneath his split and bleeding fingernails, but even the dull throb of pain feels somehow detached from him. As though it belongs to someone else. As though it belongs to this body, but not Ben himself. Ben is merely occupying it for the time being.

“What the fuck does that even mean,” he asks himself, hoisting himself up onto his feet with a pained grunt. “You’re losing it. Or you’ve lost it. Either way, you’re standing here talking to yourself like an imbecile.”

It sounds ridiculous, talking to himself like this, but it feels like the only thing keeping him grounded. Like a balloon in a child’s grasp, mere moments from floating away, held in place at the will of a pudgy hand gripping its ribbon. Ben finds himself moving forward, his steps heavy and leaden, sloshing through the sluice of dirty water that has risen amidst this unholy downpour.

He is weary. Beyond weary. The thought of being bone dry and warm, somewhere soft and safe, causes his steps to falter. He could stop to rest, just for a moment … but no. No, he came here with a purpose. And he doesn’t know how long he has to see it through.

As he looks up, the Hux estate looms before him, dark and imposing in its architecture, as cold and unwelcoming as he had pictured it to be. Ben can almost imagine Hux growing up here—it would certainly explain a few facets of his personality. But it’s no place for a child. He knows that. No child should have to call this prison their home.

Shouting draws him away from his thoughts, loud enough to be heard even above the storm. He moves along the wall, hurrying towards the sound of voices in the hopes that his search may have come to an end.

There is a large man dragging a flailing child out towards a ship, both of them screaming. The shock of red hair on both their heads is a dead giveaway. It had always made Hux stand out to him, a bright beacon amidst the darkness of space and the First Order’s fleet. Hux would hate to hear him say it, he’s sure. But now isn’t the time for idle thoughts. He isn’t sure exactly how he plans to act right up until the moment he sees the man reel back to strike the child.

By that point it feels more like the will of the Force than will of his own as it surges through him, lifting the elder Hux off his feet and slamming into the ship's paneling. He falls to the ground in a crumpled heap and does not move. Ben feels a sudden tidal wave of nausea and grabs hold of the building’s wall as he retches violently. His mouth tastes of blood and bile and his head swims.

He wants to sleep. He wants so terribly to sleep. He’s tired and cold and he aches, but he’s not finished here. Not until he’s sure Hux is safe. The child doesn’t move from where he’d fallen to the ground after his father had been violently ripped away from him. He watches as Ben draws near, mouth agape and shaking in the heavy rain—from cold or fear, Ben isn’t sure. Likely both. Eyes the color of spearmint leaves stare back at him, wide and round in his small, pale face.

And he’s small, Ben realizes. So small. Hux was never a large man, not like his father, but Ben had never quite pictured him to have been so… fragile looking. Like a baby bird. Stunted and runt-like.

“It’s okay,” Ben says, raising his hands peaceably. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

The boy shakes his head, doing his best to scuttle backwards and away from Ben. Waves of fear assault Ben’s senses, so overwhelming in its nature that he nearly losing his footing once more. Hux has always been a torrent of thoughts and emotion within a cold, unfeeling wrapping but this bald terror is new to Ben. Such a show of emotion would no doubt mortify the general were he to know Ben had ever been witness to it.

“Armitage!”

The cry startles him as someone comes hurtling from behind him. The presence he had felt earlier following him up the hill rushes past him and towards the frightened boy.

“Mother!” he hiccups.

Mother.

Of course.

Hux’s mother. The kitchen woman. It’s why her presence had felt familiar—because some part of Hux came from her. The part that the elder Hux had never quite been able to fully beat out of him. Ben stands back and watches the woman cradle the boy in her arms and as he does, he realizes her hair is red as well. Hux’s hair was not the rusty red of his father’s but rather the fiery red of his mother’s. The longer he looks, the more Ben realizes that the elder Hux’s hatred of his son were for many more reasons than first glance might supply.

He startles when the woman rises from the mud, clutching the boy to her breast as she approaches him. Even in the rain, Ben can see the tears in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she says earnestly. “I don’t know who you are or where you’ve come from—”

“You don’t need to,” Ben says, waving a hand absently.

The woman nods, holding her son closer. The boy’s arms wrap tightly around her neck, his face pressed to her chest and away from Ben’s sight.

“You should go east of here. The Resis—the New Republic will take you both in,” Ben instructs her. “They’ll take you away from here, they’ll take you somewhere safe.”

“Yes, I know,” the woman says, fruitlessly attempting to dry her eyes. “I just couldn’t leave without… without trying. I was afraid I would be too late.”

“Well…” Ben says haltingly. “You’re not. Be thankful for that.”

“I am,” the woman assures him. Her green eyes convey a gratitude that she isn’t sure she can properly express, but Ben feels it, powerful and warm that cuts through even the piercing chill of the air around them. “Thank you, Mister…?”

Ben isn’t sure how to answer that. He has had many names, none of which feel suitable to this moment. But then… perhaps one is. Perhaps this is a chance for his name to be used in penance. He had worn it as a cloak to his darkness, his cruelty, his selfishness. Now, he offers it upon the metaphorical altar before him.

“It’s Ren,” he tells her. “Just… Just Ren.”

“Mister Ren,” the woman says, nodding to herself as though to commit it to memory. “My name is Palla Myn. On behalf of my son, you have my gratitude. If there is anything I might do—”

“That’s not necessary,” Ben says. He waves a hand slowly before her face. “You will go to the New Republic troops and you will forget my face.”

Her eyes glaze over as she echoes his words and turns to leave once more. He watches her as she reaches the slope of the hill and continues watching until her form has disappeared entirely. Only once she has gone does he allow his exhaustion to take over and he falls back upon his rear with a loud splash. He drags himself just far enough to rest his back against the side of the estate wall, but knows he is capable of nothing more.

Ben is tired. And now, with his work done, he can sleep. Forever, he thinks. Perhaps it will be forever. Perhaps it is done now. And as his heavy eyelids drift closed, he thinks that might just be alright.

* * *

“Daddy! Take me with you to the temple!”

Ben wheezes as a heavy weight drops on top of him, jarring him from his sleep.

“Padmé, let your father wake up please.”

Blearily, Ben blinks his eyes, which seem to take eons to clear. But when they do, he’s greeted to the sight of Hux picking a small, red-headed child off of his chest and setting her on the ground beside the bed. With a sort of dumb fascination, Ben watches as a man he has known only to be cruel and ruthless gently pat the child’s head.

“You’ll spend plenty of time in the temple when you’re of age,” Hux informs her. “Now, go see that your things are packed. You don’t want to keep Poe waiting.”

Poe. Poe Dameron, he means. And father…? Him? Ben sits up slowly, his head foggy and his body heavy. The bed he’s sitting in is large, built for two, and the room is bright and sunny. He feels immensely stupid as he gazes about him, wondering where—and when—the hell he is.

“Ben? Are you alright?”

His gaze returns to Hux, who watches him with a concerned frown.

“Hux,” he says, his voice rough.

“Solo,” Hux snorts with a smirk. “Are we doing last names now? I thought you dropped that habit at the altar.”

“Altar,” Ben echoes dumbly.

He looks down to his hands and finds a slim, inconspicuous band around his left ring finger. When he manages to look back up, he finds a matching band around Hux’s. This is a dream. Some kind of fantasy that the last of his firing neurons has conjured up as he eases into death. Suddenly there’s a weight on the bed beside him and Hux is sitting beside him. Ben watches with open astonishment as the general—is he still a general here?—reaches up and presses his hand to Ben’s cheek, his thumb brushing gently along his cheek.

They have had a bond through the Force since nearly the moment they had met. But it’s never been like what Ben feels now. It’s so strong, so all-consuming that he could drown in it. Hux’s wild emotions are distilled into things Ben had never even dreamt he might feel from him—affection, devotion, admiration, concern. Love. Such ardent love that Ben’s eyes begin to sting at the mere thought of it.

“You don’t seem well today,” Hux says quietly. “Perhaps you’re coming down with something… Why don’t I send word to Luke that you won’t be well enough to join him? I’m sure he and Tak can handle the younglings without you for one day.”

Ben nods slowly. Luke. Tak. Temple. Younglings. His mind is whirling with questions chasing questions, but for the moment… He reaches out, wrapping a hand around Hux’s wrist. He’s afraid that this will disappear the moment he lets his guard down.

“Could you… stay? With me?” Ben asks hesitantly. “Please.”

He feels a lump rise in his throat as Hux’s face pulls into the gentlest, most earnest smile he’s ever seen. It’s beautiful. _He’s_ beautiful, glowing and healthy in a way Ben had never seen him before.

“Of course.”

Ben doesn’t know if he deserves this, whatever this is. But as he pulls Hux close and listens to the redhead murmur quietly about his mother inviting them for dinner this weekend, Ben decides it’s a question that can wait until later.


End file.
